


The Eiffel Tower, The Golden Snitch, and…

by sapphirephoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: deflower_draco, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:31:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7202699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirephoenix/pseuds/sapphirephoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an opportunity comes along, you have to take it and make the most of it!</p><p> </p><p>My submission for the 2013 Deflower Draco Fest</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger was furious! She was also humiliated, confused, and most definitely _not_ herself.

This was because she was... well... she was _Draco Malfoy_. She was _supposed_ to be Lavender Brown, blonde-haired Lavender, _female_ Lavender! But _no!_ Somehow, Lavender’s hair was switched with Malfoy’s.

_Draco bloody Malfoy!_

That wasn’t all, though. What’s more, the fact that it _wasn’t_ all made Hermione _very_ suspicious. One would think, in a simple mix-up, where the hairs were accidentally swapped, that the others would be in a similar situation.

Lavender Brown and Theodore Nott, _however_ , were not in the same scenario, but Draco Malfoy was.

_Draco sodding Malfoy!_

The fact that Nott and Brown were Polyjuiced as they should be made Hermione _very_ suspicious, indeed.

“I thought I told you to go to the Slytherin’s Head Dormitory, Granger,” Professor Snape sneered from the door between his office and his classroom.

Hermione jumped out of her skin, reminded once more of the pickle she was in. She turned and looked at her professor’s shoes. Trying her damnedest to mind her temper, she hissed, “I don’t know where that is.”

She glanced at the professor’s face and thought she saw a flash of pity.

He took three strides and tapped his wand on a tapestry of Salazar Slytherin. “Straight through to the door at the end.”

Muttering her thanks, Hermione walked through the long hall. It was bizarre. She was several inches taller than she was used to, and her long legs made it very difficult to walk, not to mention her shredded school uniform. She was lucky to have been wearing her robes when she transformed into _Malfoy_. Her blouse, bra, skirt... _everything_ she was wearing was hanging from her body.

As was a penis. Hermione had no idea how to walk with a cock between her legs, and more than once already she had quite the reminder to watch herself when it got pinched between her thighs. There was also... semen on the inside of her skirt, cold and wet on what remained of her tights.

Hermione saw red, again, and thought back to the row she’d had with Lavender about prudish behaviour. She had no evidence, unless you counted _this entire fucking Potions lesson_.

Pushing through the door to the Head’s dormitory, Hermione was not pleased to see that Malfoy wasn’t present. He had trotted right off, holding his trousers in his fists to keep from tripping on the trailing material as he left Professor Snape’s office, not sparing a thought to her situation.

_Prat._

The problem was that unless specially modified, Polyjuice Potion would transform someone completely, and if the person was of the opposite sex, there was a coordinating physical repercussion. Thinking of the sensation of her clitoris transforming into a cock, and her ovaries dropping, and the accompanying orgasm made her shiver.

She’d come in her knickers in front of the whole Potions lesson!

The only saving grace had been that her ecstatic grunts had been followed by an inverse from the other side of the room. Swallowing, Hermione tried to think what it would have been like for him to have his cock retracted into his pelvis as what had been outside came in.

From his moans, it sounded quite nice. She would find out soon enough, the potion only lasting an hour.

Hermione’s face flushed. She couldn’t think straight as she was, and the _product_ of her transformation had become quite uncomfortable. Trying not to imagine what Malfoy was doing to her body—his body right now, Hermione went for the bath.

For better or worse, that’s where she found Malfoy, who shrieked when she came into the bath.

He was standing there in his pants, regular, plain boys’ shorts that made her arse look... delicious.

“Go away!” Malfoy shrieked, shooting her an icy glare.

It was... adorable. No wonder no one ever took her seriously when she was angry. Even a frigid look like only Malfoy could do looked bloody hot. Her—his mouth was even pursed into an adorable moue. 

“And leave you alone with my body? I think you’ve had plenty of time as it is.” Hermione half smiled, and then thinking about her little revelation, turned to look at herself in the mirror. It was Malfoy, of course, but instead of a sneer, it was more of a smirk. She kind of liked it.

“I haven’t done anything with your body, Granger. I only just got here.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said. Remembering how uncomfortable she was, she began to take off her clothes.

“What are you doing!” Malfoy shrieked. “You’re not getting nude in here!”

“It’s _your_ body, nitwit, and you’ve certainly had a gander at mine, haven’t you!”

“It’s not like that! I don’t expect _you_ to understand.”

Leaning heavily on the sink, Hermione struggled to take off her ruined tights. “I don’t need to hear how terrible my body is, Malfoy, or how all the many fitter birds you’ve been with look. I get enough of that shit as it is.”

“Pull your head out of your arse for a minute, Granger. Not everything is about _you_!” He grabbed the hair at the top of his head, look as though he wanted to rake his fingers through it, but they got caught. It wasn’t blond silk, but a rat’s nest of brown curls. “It doesn’t... _feel_ different in your body. I feel the same.

“I thought I would be crawling out of your skin… that I would feel dirty, but I don’t. I thought the magic would feel different, but it doesn’t. I don’t understand!”

Repairing her clothes the best she could, Hermione left them in a chair by the door. “You mean it doesn’t feel any different to be a _Mudblood_. Who could have guessed?” He swallowed and looked at her in the mirror.

Hermione could see the true dilemma that he was in, but couldn’t make herself care. She moved to stand behind him, totally nude. “I have to get in a bath; I’m sure you can understand.” Then, she moved to turn on the taps and got in to the tub as it filled.

The hot water was lovely, and although she felt like a complete perv, she couldn’t take her eyes off Malfoy. They might hate each other, but the things his body wanted to do to hers... Hermione let the heat of arousal flood over her, and what was between her legs perked up quite a bit.

She was so busy looking that she almost missed when Malfoy spoke.

“I’ve never seen a woman nude before.”

Hermione laughed in disbelief. “You don’t have to lie to flatter me.”

He turned and crossed his arms. It squeezed his breasts together, and Hermione couldn’t stop staring.

“Don’t leer at me. Why would I lie?”

Hermione turned her head to keep her eyes off the goodies. She was really enjoying this. It was nice to feel that a bloke would be attracted to her, that Lavender Brown was _wrong_ , and it would be quite easy, in fact, to pick up a man if she cared to.

“You’re a Slytherin, why _wouldn’t_ you lie?”

“Touché. And if I told you that there was a snake in the lion’s den? I know you like revenge almost as much as I do.”

“But, why?”

“Nott. He’s jealous of me, just like his father was jealous of my father. He knows that I haven’t been with a woman, and he tried to humiliate me.”

Running her tongue over her teeth, Hermione considered it. Nodding, she said, “Well, then you might as well learn something while you’re like that. Go ahead and... explore,” she said before ducking under water.

When she came up, Draco was looking at her with his hands on his hips. “You _want_ me to take advantage of your body.”

He was very... cute when he was incredulous. Internally, Hermione smacked herself for being so... piggish. But really, he wasn’t even bothering to cover up and those breasts looked... lickable!

“Not _my body_ , Malfoy. Those are your breasts, for a little while, anyway.”

“You know that’s not strictly true.”

Hermione shrugged. Now that her mind wasn’t racing, she was sort of enjoying the new athletic, masculine physique she was in. She couldn’t begrudge him his own exploration. “I’m sure whatever woman you decide to be with would appreciate you having a bit of knowledge. Just don’t think if it as me, if you find that so off-putting.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something but stopped himself. Then he turned and looked in the mirror. To her surprise, he didn’t go straight for the breasts, which Hermione was somewhat missing now. However, she did have view of a great pair of legs and a very nice arse. Perhaps it was time for some better denims when she got back home.

“Your face is really soft, but I think it’s because I take good care of my skin,” Malfoy said, running his fingers over his eyebrows. “Nice eyes.”

“Always a good compliment, if you’re up close with a witch.”

He frowned, looking at her in the mirror again. “You say that as if you know.”

Hermione smiled and floated on her back a bit. “It’s not polite to kiss and tell, Malfoy.”

“Tease,” he muttered but refocused his attention. His fingers went over his lips. “Sensitive.” Then his hands went to his shoulders, and past his collarbone, but diverted to his arms.

Moving to lean over the tub behind him, Hermione watched as he went over her neck and even played with her hair a bit, lifting and twisting. “What are you waiting for, Malfoy? Those breasts won’t be there forever.”

That must have embarrassed him because he went very still.

Climbing out of the bath, Hermione wrapped a towel around her waist. “You really haven’t ever—”

Malfoy closed his eyes and shook his head.

Her heart went out to him. This whole scenario could really have ended badly for Malfoy, even worse than for her. If he had been transformed into someone else, someone truly prudish and selfish, he would have been scarred for life.

Hermione stepped behind Draco and slid her hands down his arms. “Let me help,” she whispered into his ear, and then laced her fingers with his from behind. She took a deep breath and said, “Now just listen to your body. No two women will like exactly the same things, or even remotely the same things, but if you listen to what the body tells you, there is nothing to worry over.”

She pushed the palms of his hands to his hips, where his shorts still covered the skin. Then she pressed them up, and when they touched skin, he let out a staggering breath.

“How do you feel?”

“Hot.”

“Good?”

His answer was a nod of his head.

“More? Touch whatever feels good.”

Malfoy’s hand slid from under hers. She kept her hands on his belly while his rose higher and higher to his breasts. He hesitated for a moment but continued with a little encouragement.

“Notice the difference from the sensitivity of the nipples and the rest of the breast.”

His fingertips played with his nipples and they perked up. Hermione licked her lips. This was incredibly erotic, and it took everything she had to not grind her cock against him.

“Good?”

“Yes,” he said and dared to open his eyes. When he did, he took a deep breath.

Their eyes met in the mirror, and Hermione went still, too.

He swallowed slowly. “Will you, I mean, do you want to—never mind.” His hands fell away from his body, and he tried to step away from her body.

Hermione tensed her arms, perhaps more so than necessary, but she wasn’t used to her strength. “What?”

“No. It’s weird. This is weird. We shouldn’t be doing anything at all.”

Hermione frowned and pulled back a bit. “I never thought you would be one to let an opportunity slip through your fingers, Malfoy.”

Her turned and glared at her. “Merlin, Granger! You bloody know-it-all. You’re infuriating, you know!”

Hermione crossed her arms and leaned forward a bit. She didn’t mean to be menacing, but she felt how strong her shoulders were, and had to restrain herself from using her size to her advantage. “You won’t say what you want!”

“It’s ridiculous!”

“This whole bloody situation is ridiculous, but there’s no undoing it!” 

He shoved her, harder than she thought he should be able to in her body. “You don’t get it! For a second I forgot! I opened my eyes and it was just me and you not you and me or you-me and _fuck!_ This is impossible!”

Hermione grabbed his wrists, which was easy and almost reflexive. Then, she pushed them to the side and stepped up close to him. “You’re saying you want something, but it’s a ridiculous question to ask.” She watched as his eyes dilated and his breathing got heavy.

Gently, she teased her fingers up his arms, over his shoulders, and down to his breasts. He held his breath when she cupped them in her palms. “This?”

Draco shook his head, brown curls sweeping across his back. He pushed his chest forward, though, and Hermione squeezed gently, like _she_ liked.

“Am I close? What is it?”

“Your mouth?”

Without a second thought, Hermione had his nipple in her mouth, sucking gently. Draco keened, and pushed his fingers through his hair. They moved through the silken strands with ease, and Hermione twisted to the other side even as her back protested at the angle.

“Fuck!” Draco panted. “Fuck, me!”

Hermione dropped to her knees in front of him. “No. Draco, we can’t. Your cock is much too big.”

“I don’t care.”

Hermione chuckled and kissed his belly, moving her hands around to squeeze his arse. Down his thighs and up again under his shorts. “Oh you will. If you’re really a virgin, Malfoy, the first time will hurt a lot. You have to prepare.”

“So do it.”

“There probably isn’t enough time, anyway.”

“Then _hurry_.”

“Malfoy—”

He stepped away from her, and thrust his shorts down. “You don’t go to Paris and not see the Eiffel Tower. You don’t play Quidditch without a Snitch. I’m so aroused right now, I have to. I need it.”

Hermione looked at him. It looked like he had almost said ‘please’, but he stopped himself. Then, his eyebrows arched, and brown eyes pleaded silently. Shaking her head, Hermione nodded. “I can’t believe this. Fine. Fine! But not in here. There’s a bed, right?”

Draco was through the door in a flash, and Hermione had to hurry very carefully to meet him at the bed. She was also turned on, and she wasn’t quite sure how to move with a cock hard against her belly.

She pushed her fingers through her hair, watching as Draco spread out on the bed, including his hair across the pillows. Hermione snorted. “Princess.”

“I don’t want it in the way! Tick, tock, Granger.”

“Yes, Princess.”

His foot kicked out at her, and she caught it. Then she spread his legs, holding the other at the knee. She licked up his thigh, and then slid her tongue through his delicious wetness.

“I never thought I’d—” Hermione started but dove in to lick the slit again and again. Thoughts kept bubbling up: she was licking her own quim, she was licking _his_ quim, she couldn’t believe how delicious it was. That last one had the most attention as she devoured him, listening to him squeal with pleasure and holding his thighs apart when they started to tense. Then, she slid a finger deep into him and licked his clit.

He was screaming just like he had in Potions. “Come for me, Malfoy. Fucking come.”

Their eyes locked, and then he did, fists pounding into the bed. When his voice was raspy and hoarse, Hermione pulled her mouth away, still pumping her finger.

He was trying to catch his breath, staring at her with dreamy eyes. “That was—”

“The beginning, Malfoy. Tick, tock, remember?” She slid two fingers into him and his back arched.

“Oh, Merlin,” he groaned, and opened his eyes wide to look at her.

Hermione rubbed her fingers all over inside of him, rubbing and stretching the tight muscles. “Take a deep breath, Malfoy.” Then, a third finger was stretching him, too. “Grab your tits.”

He obeyed and sighed in relief. Hermione watched as her body got worked over just how she liked, how she had practiced with a Muggle boy over summer. Watching now with a throbbing cock, she felt dizzy. She was so turned on, and her body was turned on.

“Ready, Malfoy?” Hermione pulled her fingers away and crawled over him. “Put your hands on my shoulders. Good. Tell me if it’s too much, and I’ll stop.”

He nodded, and she pushed slowly. It was so hot and wet and tight. The blood rushed away from her brain, and she felt nails dig into her shoulders. Hermione opened her eyes, surprised that she had closed them at all. “More?”

He nodded, but he was flinching.

She didn’t move. Hermione watched his face. She pulled back a little, and pushed forward. His face relaxed and his breathing started to match her movements.

“That’s better. How does it feel?”

Draco swallowed. “Tight. Sore. Good. It feels good.”

Hermione smiled. “Of course it does. Eat. Sleep. Fuck.”

“ _Fuck._ ”

“Say it.”

“Fuck.”

Hermione leveraged her hips more. The slow stroking was working, but it was also getting harder to keep herself under control.

“It feels so good,” he whispered as he pulled her shoulders down. “Fuck me. You know you want to. Fuck me.”

His words shot heat between her legs. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“Draco.”

“Sh. Just come for me. I want to feel it.”

His legs wrapped around her back, and that was the end of her control. She pumped and pumped, and soon, she was coming, buried deep inside of him. Hermione screamed into his shoulder, panting and moaning as her release shot out of her.

Her body was arched over his all the while, and they stayed that way for a long moment. Then, Hermione noticed the pooling sweat and the sticky sensation, and she rolled off of him, staring at the bed curtains and trying to catch her breath.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that. She dozed a bit until the Polyjuice began to wear off. As though she was hitting puberty and in a matter of moments, her breasts were growing again and her soft cock was drawing up, shrinking back to an engorged clit. It felt like an orgasm was squeezed out of her as it went.

Beside her, Malfoy’s voice was changing back to a more masculine tenor, and the bed accommodated the growing weight on his side.

Suddenly, Hermione felt very exposed. She was completely naked, and she remembered how she had got here. Lavender and Nott and the “botched” potion, and she began wishing that the bed would just swallow her up so she would never have to leave.

She closed her eyes and swallowed. Draco Malfoy was in bed with her. It was all the horror of a bad night out drinking with none of the excuse.

“Granger.”

Shit. He’d remembered her. Turning her head, she looked at him. “Malfoy.”

“Am I still a virgin?”

Her mind stalled. _That was his first question?_

“It seems a curious state to have bedded a witch without bedding a witch.”

Still, she had nothing say. He was leaning on his elbow, now, and looking at her face. She couldn’t move. Hermione felt like she’d been spelled still, deaf, dumb, and mute.

He was coming closer. “Nice eyes,” he said.

Finally, she could speak. “Malfoy, don’t. You don’t have to—”

“Oh, but I do. Theory is all well and good, but application is the true test. I’m sure you agree.”

He touched her eyebrows and her lips. His fingers went down her neck and her left arm and twisted over her collarbone.

Hermione watched him as he closed up a bit and said, “Unless you’d rather not.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. He froze, slate grey eyes pinning her in place. They were completely neutral, carefully so.

Hermione reached up and pulled her hair to one side. “You’re right. Application _is_ the true test.”

That _really_ set her heart pounding. It was like a scared bird in a too small cage. Malfoy inched closer and touched her neck with his fingers. Then, his lips were on her pulse point, and his breath was on her jaw.

“Good?” he whispered.

She nodded just a bit. His body was moving over hers. It was so slow, so _careful_. Hermione turned her head toward his, and their eyes met.

“In the mirror, this is what I saw.”

Wracking her brain, Hermione flashed back to the moment when she had been behind him, leaning over just barely, and her hands were on his. She shivered.

“I loved being in your body, but this is better.” He kissed her eyebrows before moving to one ear. He was moving impossibly slowly.

Hermione lifted one hand and curled her palm around the back of his neck. “Me too.”

“You were bolder.”

“Well,” she said and stopped. She looked away. “I was me and you were me. Now you’re you.”

“I know.” His lips were on her collar bone, and they trembled softly. “Did you make all that up then?”

“No. I spoke from experience. Experience and trying to keep a rational mind.” Hermione gasped.

He knelt, and his hands were on her breasts. They were timid, but his skin was dusting over hers.

“This is definitely not rational,” he said just before his mouth was on her breast.

Hermione looked down at him. They looked at each other as he switched. She saw stars as he sucked hard, pulling much more than her nipple between his lips.

He pulled back. “It’s like I have the plans for your pleasure in my head now.” He went back to the first breast, sucking it hard between his lips. When he let it free, he moved to straddle her body, knees beside her hips. “You were such a tease.”

“Maybe you don’t like the things I like.”

“I like your tits.”

“They are nice. I couldn’t stop staring.” Hermione still felt a bit awkward. “Malfoy—”

“Say ‘Draco’.”

Hermione hesitated. He was looking at her, observing her body below his. She took a deep breath and whispered it.

His lips curled up for just a moment but it vanished, and he leaned in closer. Draco whispered, “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Her eyes shot to his mouth. “Eiffel Tower.”

“Unless you’d rather not.”

Hermione was staring at his lips, and thinking about everything she’d seen so far. “Your first kiss should be special.”

“I agree.” Draco touched her lips with his fingertips and moved so that his knees were between hers. “My cock is finally hard again.” He positioned it at her opening and brought his face close to hers. “Hermione,” he whispered.

Spreading her legs, Hermione pressed her hips up.

“So wet,” Draco smiled, his mouth moving closer to hers.

“For you.”

Draco’s fingers traced over her lips again. “Again.”

“For you,” she whispered and licked her lips. The tip of her tongue brushed his bottom lip.

That was the end. Draco’s lips pressed against her mouth, closed but hard. He kissed her again like that, and then pushed his tongue against her lips, and Hermione opened to him. He devoured her. Hermione was lost to it, and when his cock pushed into her, she was surprised.

“Draco!”

“I know!” he said as he thrust into her. “It’s so good when my cock is in you!” Draco wrapped his arms under her shoulders and held her like that as he drove into her.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulders. It felt so good: a primitive pounding. She let him do what he would, and when his lips found her breast, she pushed her fingers into his hair.

That was his undoing, and he was over the edge, shouting and groaning as he shot into her. When he was done, he kissed up her chest and to her mouth.

Hermione kissed Draco for as long as he wanted. At last, his body fell away and they were once again side by side in the bed.

She let her head roll to look at him. “You’d think they’d have come to check on us by now.”

Draco looked confused for a moment before he remembered. “Salazaar would have covered for us. House business.”

“Is that so?” Hermione smiled and stretched. The bed was unbelievably comfortable, but she was in dire need of another bath.

“Of course.” He took a deep breath, inhaling through his nose. He groaned.

“You want the first bath or should I?” Hermione asked, pushing herself into the pillows.

“It’s big enough for two, I think. Besides, we have revenge to orchestrate.”

Hermione considered. Part of her was too blissed out to properly consider revenge at this point, but the bath tub _was_ quite lovely. Draco was rolling off the bed. He waved at her, and she followed. Reaching down, she picked up the wet towel from the floor, considered covering up with it.

Draco looked back, grabbed the towel from her, and shoved her gently through the door. She heard it click shut and stepped into the steaming hot water. Draco slid in right behind her. When he touched her shoulder, she stilled so he could twist her hair up and secure it with her wand.

Then he put both hands on her shoulders and asked, “What shall we do with Theodore and Lavender?”


	2. Chapter 2

Revenge was simple. For Nott, a drop of truth serum in his pumpkin juice every night for a week. For Brown, a drop of untruth serum.

It would take them weeks to undo the damage, he suspected.

Draco sat back, watching Nott stare daggers at a bookshelf. He was sullen, his lips squeezed together, lest he say even another word.

And it was only the second night.

Draco let himself feel victorious.

He wished Hermione was here to see it. He wished she was here for other things as well.

Sometimes when Draco shut his eyes, his mind would flash to their time together. It had been ten days ago, and he was growing impatient for something apart from revenge. He could easily imagine he was transformed by the potion again, feeling what her body wanted.

His eyes snapped open. His common room was no place to get caught out. Draco held the two ends of his wand, lifting it so he could have something to occupy his line of sight.

She had licked him and touched him and teased him whilst he’d been in her form. He had not returned those favors. She had made a man of him, and yet he felt as though he had only just begun.

Draco stood and moved toward the tapestry of Salazar Slytherin. He had felt as though the tapestry had been watching him in the days since, a knowing look in his embroidered eyes. Draco met those eyes and gave a subtle bow of his head in greeting as he slipped behind the swath of fabric.

He breathed a sigh of relief. What was usually a solid wall was now an alcove with a spiral staircase off to one side. Two days ago, Slytherin had bowed to him and turned away as if to invite him on a stroll around the Black Lake, which was the scene of this tapestry. If the wall had not been changed, Draco would have looked endlessly foolish.

He began to climb the stairs. The spiral was tight, dizzying. Still, when Draco blinked he would see flashes of brown curls or the freckles on her shoulder. He was spurred onward.

Then, the staircase let out onto a hallway Draco had never seen before. On his right was the hard stone wall that usually encased the exterior of Hogwarts. On his left, a wall of medium height that let in the bright light of the full moon. It was warmer out here than he thought it ought to be, but that thought didn’t concern him as much the sound of footsteps approaching.

Draco tucked himself back into the top of the stairwell, waiting to see who was coming. His heart stopped for a moment, but then it raced.

She was here.

Her silhouette was unmistakable. Bushy hair atop her Hogwarts cloak, a prefect badge glinting in the moonlight. Her gait was purposeful, but when he could finally discern her features, she was preoccupied, staring at the floor as she moved.

Draco decided it was safe to reveal himself now, and stepped up from the stairwell again. He began to walk, moving right past her with his chin high. She took three steps before she stopped. Draco waited, but did not turn.

“Malfoy!” she whispered, as if they were some place the might get caught.

His adrenaline spiked. Draco turned to face her, his footfalls quiet on the stone floor.

When their eyes met, he held her gaze for a long time.

She broke the silence. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, raising her hands up with her question.

She was off-kilter. Draco smiled to himself. “House business. What are _you_ doing here?” he asked quietly.

He never took his eyes away, and she seemed to realize they were alone together. Her gaze dropped as though she was nervous.

“The Gryffindor tapestry kept winking at me.”

“Godric?” he asked, disbelieving that the two founders were both in on this.

“No, just the lion, the one from the crest in the Great Hall. We have a banner with only the lion. I was sitting in front of the fire, and Lavender kept telling all these lies,” she said but paused to smile at him. “And then I thought I saw the lion wave. I was the only one though, because everyone was watching Lavender, and she was getting hysterical. It was as though I was forgotten completely, except by the lion. He hangs to the one side of the fireplace, so I peeked behind him, and there were these stairs which I’m sure had never been there before.”

Draco was hardly paying attention. The more she rattled on the less nervous she looked, and he could look at her more carefully because she wasn’t paying as much attention to him in return. However, almost without his knowledge, he picked up one twisting coil of her hair, one that was distinct from the bushy nest, and twisted it around his finger.

“The serum is working then?”

She swallowed. “Yes. And for Nott?”

Draco nodded. “He’s livid.”

That made her smile.

Pulling his finger gently away from the curl of her hair, Draco whispered, “Hermione.”

Her smile lessened but something lit up in her eyes.

“Have you been… reminiscing? Good.”

Draco looked at her, feeling his face turn to confusion.

“Everyone masturbates, Malfoy. It’s a healthy part of your sexuality.”

She smiled up at him, and it was saucy, of course. However, it also sounded a bit like a text book. Some parents presented their children with such things, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if Granger had sought it out on her own.

“Is a map to your pleasure also a healthy part of my sexuality?” he asked. He was impressed by how casual he sounded, and how her face seemed to darken in the moonlight. Was she blushing at his question?

She looked away. “I’ve been thinking about that. Why don’t I have a map to your… pleasure?”

Draco’s confidence faltered. He hadn’t even thought about that before. He had spent a lot of time reconciling his desires and curiosities against what his brain knew she liked and wanted. Had he assumed that she had the same experience? Then he remembered: she was far more experienced than he.

“Perhaps it is because I don’t know what I like.”

“Oh.” She frowned and looked away as if to find something to help him with this.

“Apart from you,” Draco added quietly.

That made her smile, but also, she looked relieved, as if she could explain that away. She said, “We’re full of hormones; it’s natural to want more. I’m sure there are, erm, plenty of pretty girls in Slytherin, though. Also, you hate me, remember. Mudblood.”

“Quit being _Muggle_ about this,” Draco countered, trying not to sneer at the unpleasant complications. “Your Muggle books can’t explain what happened to us. And you’re right. I’ve been horrible to you. I’m not saying it’s all water under the bridge or anything, just clearly, I was wrong.”

That stopped her for a moment. She had clearly never thought he’d say such a thing. He certainly hadn’t.

“I’ve been considering all of the events of that day,” Draco began again, thinking about their short time in bed together. “Haven’t you?”

“I have.”

Draco took that as permission to step toward her. He lifted his hands and swept her hair behind her shoulders. He was touching her again, and part of him was demanding more and more. Then his fingers brushed up the side of her neck, and his thumb swept across her eyebrow. He whispered her name again.

Her tongue darted out over her lips. “Don’t rush.”

His head was bending toward her, but he froze. “What?”

“One kiss. We started at the end, but it should be allowed to grow.”

“One is not enough.”

“Tomorrow as well, then.”

“Why would you promise that?”

“You’re being rather un-Malfoy-esque.”

He bent his head lower, and he noticed she turned and tilted her head just so. Their mouths were nearly touching now, and he could feel her breath on his neck.

_Un-Malfoy-esque._

“Don’t suggest you’re kissing anyone but a Malfoy, Granger.” He opened his eyes, and her face blurred before him. Their eyes met for a moment before his gaze dropped down to look at her body, hidden beneath her robes.

She lifted her eyebrows once. “ _I_ know what I’m doing.”

No she didn’t, but he would show her. His hands dropped down and slid along the side of her ribs. He gripped her waist through her robes, pushing down for half a second. Then, their lips met, and he grip slid up over her waist one more to her ribs. He held her body against his, using his power and height as an advantage over her.

She squeaked softly, and then their mouths opened together, and she lifted up on her toes for more. Draco sucked her tongue into his mouth for one moment. He listened for her reaction, reveling when she wanted more, and he pulled away from her.

She whined.

“Don’t rush,” he whispered to her, his hand holding her.

She looked as though she wanted to say something, but she held her tongue.

Draco was feeling so aggressive, so ready for more, but he could play the long game. He dropped his mouth down by her ear. “You might have more book knowledge than I have, and you might have more experience than I have, but I know what you like, Hermione, and I intend to see that you get it.”

Then, he stepped away. He gave her one long look as he straightened his robes. Finally, he stepped around her, not breaking eye contact until the last possible second.  
***  
The next night found Draco perched on the low wall, leaning on a stone support. He had a volume of anatomy from the family library, delivered to him via house-elf when he arrived back in his room last night.

He was watching a drawing of a witch as she pointed out where her _éare_ was and her _hær_ when he heard Hermione’s heels clicking on the stones. He shut the book carefully, and moved to stand.

She looked… usual. Of course, she couldn’t have done anything out of the ordinary, but Draco had spent extra time in his shower after Quidditch practice, and not seeing a commensurate effort on her part put him off balance.

“Why are you scowling?” she asked before sliding her hand behind his neck and kissing his mouth at the corner.

Draco was distracted, his mind moving in three different directions, and his missed his opportunity to kiss her back. Still, she gave affection freely, and he was becoming accustomed to catching up where Hermione was involved.

“No reason,” he said. Then he raised the book in his, waving it at her as if it were a lure.

Hermione hummed softly, her eyes lighting up as she saw the book. “Is that for me?”

“On loan from my private library.”

She took it and turned toward the low wall. With gentle hands, she spread the pages apart. There was a drawing of a man’s torso, twisting and contorting to make room for each label in turn.

“It’s wonderful.”

“Did I not say that I know what you like?” Draco stepped behind her, pinning her at the wall with just a gentle push of his body into hers.

“And that you intend to give it to me, if I recall.” Hermione smiled, and pulled her hair to one side.

Draco kissed her neck and savored the moments there. Then, he whispered, “Say my name?” His nervousness was catching up with him, and when she turned to look at him time slowed.

Then, Hermione Granger was saying his name and smiling at him. She closed the book and moved it away from them as far as she could reach. Draco leaned away from her, and she hopped up to sit where she had had the book open.

“A snog?” she asked, as if it was their usual pastime. She was looking at his mouth and his eyes.

Draco’s hands were on the stone wall outside her thighs. He moved closer, until her knees brushed his thighs. Then, their lips brushed, and Draco pushed his body forward into hers, pressing his mouth against hers.

He liked the feel of her lips against his, and he like the little gasps and squeaks as he stole her breath.

But her hands came to his shoulders, and she pushed him away after not too long. Or not long enough, not by any measure. “Granger,” he growled.

“Don’t rush,” she said, her voice insistent and bossy.

Draco looked at her. She enjoyed receiving aggressive attention, he _knew_. Why would she hold back? “But – I know you like it.”

Her hands moved down his shoulders and press over his chest. “And we already know what I like. I thought you wanted to discover what _you_ like.”

One word came to his mind: _tease_. Looking over her face, having had a taste of her mouth, Draco thought he _might_ like being teased. He did not like not having the upper hand, however.

He pushed himself away from the little stone wall so that he stood in front of her. He made his face impassive and put his hands on her knees. He moved them apart and stood in between.

Draco let his eyes move over her. _Nice eyes._ They had become a constant point of focus for him. Her mouth was nice, too. Beneath her robes was her nice body. He looked her over again and again.

“Have you really not done anything else with anyone else?” Hermione asked, looking at the book and touching the spine of it with her fingertip.

Draco let out a frustrated breath for a reply. He didn’t like her looking away from him or putting her attention elsewhere, even if it should be what he had brought for her. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist in a loose hold, raiding her hand above her head so she couldn’t really help but look at him.

Their eyes met, and they stayed like that for a long moment. Hermione licked her lips, though, and her free hand moved to pull his cloak apart. Her hand slipped inside and found the buttons of his shirt, which she began to manage with nimble flicks of her fingers.

Draco hadn’t worn a tie, and each teasing touch moved lower down his chest until she had to untuck the bottom to get to the final button. Her gaze moved to where his shirt and trousers met while she worked.

She wasn’t smiling or anything. She merely focused on undressing him. There were no coy plays or witty comments.

Draco’s cock stiffened immediately after the last bit of his shirt had been pulled free. He was dizzy and had to shut his eyes. He felt Hermione’s fingers brush over the tent in his trousers.

Her arm pulled away from where he had it raised, and Draco let it go. Now, she could touch his chest, and she did. Her hands explored him for a moment before urging him closer.

Draco opened his eyes in time to see her turning her head into that kissing pose. She closed her eyes and lifted her mouth up for him. He met her, devouring her, falling down deeper and deeper into the sensations of her mouth and teeth and tongue, of her palms and fingernails and thighs.

He broke away, panting. “Can I touch your hair?”

Hermione smiled at him and nodded. She swallowed a bit to catch her breath but resumed the pose just as Draco thrust his fingers into the silken locks at the base of her skull. Before he knew what he was doing, Draco began to rut against her.

He felt her nails in his ribs, just a bit, and she pushed him away. She blinked up at him and whispered, “Go slow.”

Draco, blood racing, wanted to scream, but he did not. He took a step back, instead, and wrenched his cloak to the ground. He pushed his hands through his hair and shook his head at her. He realized his shirt was unbuttoned, and the fresh air felt cool on his chest.

Hermione was watching him patiently, although her heels did start to kick against the wall. She wasn’t unaffected. Draco carefully looked her over. Swollen lips. Hair slightly mussed. Thighs wide apart beneath her robes.

He moved to stand between them again. Draco lifted his fingers to touch her cheek. His efforts won him a smile, and she closed her eyes. She trusted him to make her feel good. He knew he had been successful.

“One last kiss, then?” Draco whispered, moving his hands to her knees and encouraging her to squeeze his thighs with them.

It was strange to know the perfect delight of fucking her, but to also be so lacking in the preface of all of it.

Hermione nodded, and Draco bent his mouth low, meeting her lips with his. The kiss was slow, sweeter, and it made his blood boil differently from how it was a moment ago.

When it was over, she muttered something about silencing her curtains tonight.

Draco almost hadn’t heard. “What did you say? What for?” he asked.

Hermione slid off the wall against his body. “Girls masturbate, as well, you know.”

He was stunned. Her body slid away from his, and she even turned to smile at him and wave. Then she whistled softly, dreamily as she slowly sauntered away.

Draco watched her go, dumbfounded by what she had said. It didn’t occur to him until much later that night, warm in his own blankets, that Hermione was in her bed, touching herself and thinking of him.

He laid awake for hours thinking it over, imagining her body, nude, sprawled on a large bed by herself making her body quiver and quake. He also tried to remember what his body now knew about that, tried to tap that wellspring sensual memory of her. In the end, though, he just took himself in hand, relieving all of the pressure the night had built up.

* * *

They didn’t get to meet again for nearly three weeks. When Salazar finally got Draco’s attention again, he raced to their meeting place, to be greeted by the quick clicking of Hermione’s warm winter shoes on the stones.

He had noticed them after the first big storm, pretending to ignore her as they went into Charms class. Now, he felt like he heard those footsteps all over the castle.

Draco turned to watch her approach and was surprised to watch her barreling towards him. She grabbed the front of his robes with two hands and pulled him down into a strong, willful snog.

She demanded and controlled every moment of it, and Draco, who had been envisioning this moment again night after night all this time, was stunned once more. He liked feeling her bit of strength on him, liked that she was demanding him.

Then, when she was finished, she turned to the low wall and dragged him over there with one hand. She hopped up, adjusted her skirts so he could see her knee socks. Just above a whisper, she said, “Hi. Will you finger me, please?”

Draco watched her tongue dart over her lips, and tried to reason out what she wanted. She didn’t give him time, though. Hermione grabbed his hands and put them on her bare thighs.

“Do the thing you know I like, with your middle finger, and bend the other finger. Mine are too small.”

Draco blushed but knew exactly what she was talking about and how he knew it felt for her. However, he had no idea. Also, he was discovering she was not wearing knickers. He licked his lips, now, but not in the excited way she had.

He was nervous. He swallowed, but his mouth was dry.

“I know I said we’d take it slow, but I’ve been fantasizing about you so much, and all I want to do is shag at the moment.” Hermione licked her lips again, and her hands camp up to squeeze her nipples through her robes and all her clothes and everything. 

Draco tried to swallow again. His body felt hot, and he imagined how red and splotchy he likely looked right now. Buying himself some time, he lifted her skirt. Her thighs were bare, and he gazed at them, his idle hunger turning into something he could satiate, at last.

He gripped her thighs and moved them apart. Draco didn’t look at what was under her skirt. Instead, he stared down at her and kept his face neutral.

“M-Malfoy,” Hermione moaned. She was bouncing softly in place and her eyes were closed.

Draco blinked, and somehow knew, even though she had said to finger her, presumably in her pussy, he knew she wanted to suck his finger. He _knew_ she found it so erotic.

Had she sucked anything else before?

Feeling his blood rush to fill his cock, he lifted his right hand and pulled her mouth open with his thumb. He was so gentle, and a warm, wet puff of air escaped her lips. He touched his fingertips to her lower lip.

She sucked in his middle finger, opening her big browns eyes to give him the most satisfied look he’d ever seen. Draco felt her tongue loop around his digit. Below, her thighs opened even more. Hermione kept at it for some time, but Draco withdrew from her mouth at last.

His hand found its way under her skirt again. He leaned forward, lessening the space between them. “I’ve never done this.”

“I don’t care. You’ll be great,” Hermione whispered back, bracing her hands on his shoulders.

Each rested their forehead on the other’s left shoulder. Draco smoothed his hand up her thigh. He found the slit and folds he’d been distracted by for over a month now, and then found that tight, wet place he remembered. He rubbed the length of her with his fingertip for a moment before sliding his whole middle finger in as deep as he could manage.

Hermione’s back arched away from him, and the both turned to look at the other. Draco pulled his finger out some, and pushed it back in slowly. His attention was torn between what he was doing below and how her face changed as he began to move faster and harder between her legs.

Her head tipped back, and her mouth went a bit slack. Hermione was smiling a bit as well though.

Draco explored her with his finger for a good while. She was still holding his shoulders, but her hips rolled toward his finger in time with his pushing toward her. He was also trying to reason out what they both knew she wanted.

With his other hand on her belly, Draco stopped them. Hermione whined and looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Is it two fingers?” he asked. It was an earnest question. Beneath her skirt, Draco put his first two fingers in on the next pass. They both moaned, Hermione shivering at the new fullness she felt.

Her lips pressed together, and she leaned back, looking up at him, desperately waiting for him to find the answer. 

Draco pushed wherever he could, all around inside of her as he began to pump with his wrist again. She was working with him again, but her facial expression made it obvious that he hadn’t quite found it.

“Bloody hell, Hermione, just tell me,” Draco demanded as he kept his pace.

She opened her mouth to speak, but only broken moans and pants came out at first. “I want– don’t you want to figure it out?”

“Not as much as I want to make you scream, Granger.”

Hermione let her head drop back and moved to lean on her elbows, then. “Bend your middle finger, then. More. More, Draco. Oh, right there!”

Her focus had gone completely to where he was working, so Draco let his too. He stared at her where his hands brushed and moved against her skirt. Her moans had turned sharp. Not shrill, but he knew the sound of her coming apart from that first day with the potion.

He never thought he’d hear it again. Now Draco chased it with the intensity he usually saved for the golden snitch. It was impossible to know how much time had passed before she hit her ecstatic peak, but when she did, the throes of her body and her voice were absolutely enthralling.

Draco kept on until Hermione pushed his hand from between her thighs. She smiled at him, and it had a loopy openness he’d never seen from her before. She adjusted her skirt and robes and rubbed her arms and her breasts a moment.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Without thinking, Draco lifted his fingers and gave them a sniff. In his trousers, his cock twitched and made demands in turn.

Surprisingly, as much as Draco wanted to shag her into the wall, he didn’t want to spoil all he’d worked to create.

“You can taste that if you like.”

The know-it-all had spoken. He didn’t know if he liked or not, so he licked the tip of his finger a bit. It was sweet but not sugary.

Draco looked at Hermione who was smiling at him. She pulled his hand back to her mouth and sucked his two fingers for a moment. When she was done, she let her fingers twine with his.

Trying to keep his breathing level, Draco asked, “You like that?”

Her reply was a smile. Hermione slid off the wall, mumbling something about curfew. Then, she kissed him in the corner of his mouth and disappeared down her hallway. Draco stared down the path far longer than it took her to fade away, before returning to his old rooms as well.


End file.
